


the stars and moon have all been blown out

by OpportunisticHag, theheavycrown



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, BDSM elements, Beauty and the Beast Elements, F/M, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, climb aboard the kink train because the kinky fucks are back
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2019-10-30 04:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17821901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpportunisticHag/pseuds/OpportunisticHag, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheavycrown/pseuds/theheavycrown
Summary: Betty often found herself alone, preferring the quiet company of a book to the chittering gossip of others. It simply wasn’t in her to encourage the myths and legends used to scare children from staying out past their curfew for fear that a beast would steal them away.Perhaps she should have listened.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BettySnooper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BettySnooper/gifts).



> For [@shibbycat](http://shibbycat.tumblr.com), we cherish your friendship, your support, and you. You’re the engine of our little train. Thank you for everything.

 

It wouldn’t be _fair_ at all to classify the land of Eldervair as anything remotely resembling a fairytale. Alas for Betty Cooper, that is where we lay our scene.

A beautiful woman and her mild-mannered husband had a daughter, which was the beginning of our Betty’s bad luck. From the very beginning, she didn’t belong.

Now, some twenty years later, outspoken, well-read, and quick witted — Betty didn’t fit in with her family, or most of the people of her town. She often found herself alone, preferring the quiet company of a book to the chittering gossip of others. It simply wasn’t in her to encourage the myths and legends used to scare children from staying out past their curfew for fear that a beast would steal them away.

Perhaps she should have listened.

If she had, maybe it wouldn’t have been such a shock that the beast didn’t _steal_ anyone. They were offered.

On a particularly cold morning, Betty’s mother woke her with a shrill demand that she dress in her finest pale, blue dress. She had learned many years before not to disobey Alice Cooper, so she hastily did as she was told.

With little ceremony, and regardless of her questions, she was loaded into their car and driven south until a castle eerily loomed before them.

When they drew closer, Alice turned to Betty, a stern look on her face. “We have volunteered you for a great honor, Elizabeth. You’ve never fit in with our little town. And the beast must be appeased.”

“No, there’s not a real— You can’t be serious. It’s just a story, right?” Betty sputtered uselessly as her mother exited the car, but began to beg in earnest when Alice walked around to her door and forcibly pulled her from her seat. “No, no, please. Mom! I’ll be good — I swear I’ll be good!”

She couldn’t even think of a single instance where she _hadn’t_ been good, but there must have been some reason why she was being punished this way.

Tears welled in her eyes as she panicked, heels digging into the gravel, fear of this unknown creature outweighing the fear of her evidently unwelcome home. “Don’t do this. Mom, please! Please don’t leave me here.”

“Don’t make a scene, Elizabeth. Stop your blubbering and stand up straight.” Alice tightened the grip on her forearm, dragging her to the large entryway.

Before she could even ring the bell the doors swung open, seemingly of their own volition. Her mother didn’t make a move to shove her inside, first facing her to make sure she was presentable.

Reaching up, she tightened Betty’s ponytail then wiped the tears from her cheeks. “You will endure this. It’s what you were meant for. We won’t take no for an answer.”

A low rumble sounded behind them. Betty’s eyes widened and she slowly turned her head, curling her fingers up into her palms.

She expected, well, a _beast_ , but a handsome, dark-haired man stood in the doorway. His own hands were fisted at his sides, tensing the muscles of his tattoo-covered forearms.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he scowled. “I don’t need the girl. I keep telling you people that.”

Alice squeezed Betty’s shoulders with trembling hands and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You’d better convince him. Do not disappoint us. You will not be welcomed home.” She gave Betty a gentle push forward, then turned on her heel and hurriedly returned to her car without a second glance.

“Well then—” The man cleared his throat and raised his chin, a steely look in his eyes. “I guess you’d better come in.”

 

* * *

 

 

Some time later — days, weeks, months? Betty had altogether lost track — she had been able to uncover only a few select tidbits of information.

The first, the man’s name was Jughead.

The second, there was a curse cast upon not only the town, but Jughead’s lineage as well. Witches in the nearby town of Greendale were to blame, though he ultimately wouldn’t answer as to why.

The third, and arguably the most important, Jughead had a well-tended library and tragically _didn’t read_.

“I used to!” he had muttered defensively, responding to Betty’s shock when the topic had come up. “I’ve been here a long time, okay? My mind runs away from me and it’s hard to concentrate on reading the same stagnant pages over and over again.”

She walked along the shelves, gliding her fingertips over the spines of the nearly pristine novels. “It seems like an awful waste, with all these books…” she trailed off.

“I said I _can’t_. I don’t need you belittl—”

Betty turned around suddenly, a hopeful expression covering her face. “I could read to you, out loud. It would be different than — from what you’re accustomed to.”

Crossing his arms, Jughead scowled.

Now that the idea had cropped up in her mind, she desperately wanted to give it a try. He had taken her in without complaint when she was abandoned on his doorstep. Although he had a tendency to give off a surly demeanor and seemed to prefer his solitude, she had come to believe it was quite possible that she had nothing to fear from him. He had provided her with necessities and kept their interactions at a minimum, giving her space unless she sought him out herself. But the days had already begun to run together and she was starting to feel lonely and lost in her own mind. They might as well learn to accept each other’s company seeing as they were thrown together with no other alternative. And if reading to him could be that bridge, she would happily cross it — better that than the maddening silence.

She pressed on, determined. “Maybe you could focus on my voice? Isn’t it worth a shot? It’s awfully lonely here and I could really use the company, myself.”

Considering, he stared her down with narrowed eyes. His gaze felt heavy, like an examination, judging her, searching for some sign of deception or malice.

He was silent for so long, she began to scratch her nails against her palms as heat rose to her face. She was sure it meant rejection, that she was stuck here with someone who detested her very presence, just like her family. Her throat began to tighten with the realization. “Nevermind, I’ll just—”

“Fine,” he bit out, kicking his legs out in front of him. “We’ll try.”

And so it began, a tenuous connection and a new beginning, all made with a book.

 

* * *

 

 

Until that point, Betty had been nervous and downright skittish in her new dwelling, despite Jughead’s promise no harm would come to her and the repeated orders to relax. Which seemed like a bit of a contradiction if you asked her.

But once she realized that she could help him, once she had a goal, she felt more confident in her surroundings — and much less alone.

They’d started with shorter books — vignettes and novellas, easily thumbed through in a few hours. Once Jughead begrudgingly admitted that he was able to focus on her voice, Betty beamed at him and cobbled up a list of classics from his collection. She would read a few chapters at night, and they would even make a day of it on occasion, sitting together and growing closer thanks to their shared love of stories.

It was because of this that she was finally able to let her hair down, figuratively and literally, comfortable enough in her new home and the budding friendship she had developed with Jughead.

On a lazy, rainy afternoon, Betty wandered around the house. She aimlessly toed her way down the long hallway to the library, humming quietly as she had come to do whenever she was near the room, enchanted every time she entered.

She practically had all the titles memorized by this point, having spent more time in this room than any other in the castle. _However_ , she thought, eyeing the ornately carved desk near the large windows at the back of the room, _there were still things left to be explored_.

She had always been curious, and her thirst for knowledge had played a part in her acquisition of skills that only aided in getting her to into places she usually didn’t belong. Her inquisitive nature and boredom combined with the growing sense of ease got the best of her.

Without much fanfare, she fell into the plush chair that sat behind the desk. Trinkets and various notes of paper covered the surface, and she shook her head at Jughead’s disregard for the gorgeous piece furniture that should be displayed, where he wasn’t using it for anything much other than storage.

Betty tutted as she rummaged through the drawers filled with run-of-the-mill office supplies, save for one which she discovered contained a haphazard pile of books tucked away and out of sight.

That gave her pause. As far as she knew, Jughead had all of his books collected on the library shelves, even those so cherished that the spines were cracked and the inked pages had started to fade. So what was so special about these?

Crouching down, she grabbed one of the novels — a hardcover that was missing its dust jacket. She ran her thumb across the lettering on the cover, _The Beast Within_. Curiosity piqued, she stood and opened to a random page, skimming over the words.

Her eyes widened, a huff of breath escaping from between her lips.

Jughead’s collection was very private, indeed. As she read, a heated flush rose up her chest and she couldn’t resist the urge to squeeze her thighs together.

She snapped the book closed, tucked it under her arm, took one last glance around, and made her way out of the room.

 

* * *

 

 

It was a long time before Betty made any mention of what she had found. Jughead never brought up the fact that a book had mysteriously vanished, so she could only guess that he hadn’t noticed — and she could easily see why.

It simply wasn’t _good_.

She spent a few nights poring over the pages alone in her bed, her shocked disbelief growing with each long-winded euphemism. Finally, she decided with amusement to return it to Jughead in the library in the form of that day’s reading. She had discovered that she enjoyed their teasing and was delightedly curious to see what his reaction would be.

“Have you read this…” she paused, lazily waving the book in her hand then thumbing through the pages with a furrowed brow. “We’ll call it a book, I suppose. _The Beast Within_?”

Rolling his eyes, he scoffed, rubbing his palm over the arm of his chair. “I think you’re being generous, calling that a book.”

Betty tucked her legs up underneath herself, settling in as she opened to her bookmark.

“ _That’s_ what you want to read tonight?” He squinted in disbelief. “Betty ‘we can’t let this treasure trove of words go to waste’ Cooper, she of impeccable literary tastes?”

A small smile crept up the corners of her lips. “It has words.”

Shaking his head, Jughead chuckled. “If that’s really what you want, be my guest. At least I get the benefit of your voice, all you have is suffering.”

She pointedly cleared her throat, looking down to the pages. “ _She arches her aching bosom toward his seeking palms. He grasps at the top of her bodice, tearing down the middle before making quick work of the laces of her corset. His mouth seeks out her rosy nubs, taking one in his mouth, then the other as he presses her heaving breasts together. She gasps, legs falling apart underneath her heavy skirts. Hiking the fabric up to her waist, he yanks down her bloomers. Hurriedly, he presses his fingers to her quivering flower, opening the delicate, silky petals to his touch. ‘Enough, enough! I need you inside me! Now!’ she wails, grasping for his trousers, desperately seeking his potent seed to pollinate her blooming lotus._ — What is this? ‘A blooming lotus’? This is horrible. Twenty seconds in and she’s clamoring to jump straight ahead?”

“You don’t have a proclivity for flower innuendo?” His eyes twinkled as he rose his eyebrows.

Snapping the book shut, Betty laughed. “I’m afraid not. Quivering plants just don’t do it for me.”

A smirk slowly formed on his face and she found herself staring at his lips, her own smile dimming as her thoughts took a suddenly more heated turn. Flowers may have done nothing for her, but the way Jughead was looking at her definitely did.

“Well—” He breathed in deeply and shifted in his seat, fidgeting his fingers against his chin before his face cleared and he raised his eyebrows, casting a lazy grin in her direction. “Maybe you should write your own if you think you can do better.”

Her cheeks flushed as a desire pooled in her belly, but she only muttered a soft, “Yeah, maybe I should.”

 

* * *

 

 

It didn't come as a shock that her thoughts about Jughead had continued on a less than innocent path. After that night, he had begun to act more friendly than usual — Betty dared say it could be construed as _flirting_ — and she couldn't help but feel nervous butterflies whenever he so much as shot her a smirk.

They had been spending more and more days together, enjoying each other's company. On a particularly long one, Jughead sat at his desk for quite some time, hunched over his laptop, typing away, before he groaned and snapped the lid closed. She looked at him in confusion from where she had been reading and he merely slouched back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair to pull at the ends in frustration.

Betty stood and joined him by the window, perching herself on the edge of his desk. “Hard day at the office?”

Given the unimpressed look she received, it would seem that Jughead didn’t appreciate her joke. “Would you know about one of those, living on the Northside?” he snapped, but it didn’t land with quite the intended impact since his hair was still stuck out every which way.

The corners of her lips curled up slowly as she tried tempering down a laugh, but a giggle bubbled out anyway.

Softening, he allowed a brief chuckle in return as he scrubbed a hand down the side of his face. “I feel like I’m close to something but then I—” he cut off with a shake of his head.

“I could help you, you know, if you told me what you’re working on.” She leaned forward on one palm, reaching out to smooth down the disheveled tufts of his hair, surprised at how soft it was.

A low rumble sounded from his chest as he tilted his head into her hand. “It’s not so simple.”

She turned, legs knocking into his thigh, and her eyes flicked down from their intense focus on the movement of her hand.

All this time and she had never noticed the light freckles across his cheekbones before, a smattering of constellations leading up to the deep blue of twilight skies that filled his eyes.

Her eyes trailed down the slope of his nose to ponder the curve of his upper lip. Lowering her hand, she touched her thumb to the delicate dip above the bow of his mouth. Fixated, she swept her finger back and forth until she realized the gentle warmth of his breath against her knuckles had stopped.

She paused and looked up. Jughead's face was stoic, reserved, but his eyes — his irises were hardly more than the thin sliver of a crescent moon, engulfed by the blacks of his pupils and wild as the night.

Goosebumps spread across her skin as she glimpsed a feral current that coursed hidden under his typically calm facade, sending a chill down her spine that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

With slow, deliberate intention she dragged her fingertip down the center of his mouth to press into his bottom lip, denting the plush pout of the tender skin there.

Pulling in a shallow breath, his tongue darted out, wetting his lips and brushing against her skin.

“Why not?” Betty murmured, trailing her hand down to cradle his jaw in her palm.

When Jughead made no move to pull away, she tipped closer, leaning away from the desk and nudging her nose hesitantly against his. He smelled of books and fire smoke, of spice and coffee, of the woods before rain — a combination of scents that had begun to feel like home.

Swallowing heavily, he glanced down, the fringe of his eyelashes casting shadows down his cheeks, before meeting her gaze.

The beat of her heart thundered in her chest. She tilted her head and brushed her lips to his, softly then with increasing fervor as his mouth moved against her own. A strangled groan vibrated from his throat, his hand ghosting over her bare ankle, hot compared to the chills that ran beneath her skin.

Emboldened, Betty slid her fingers into the hair at his temples, sifting through the strands then grabbing tufts of it, angling his face to hers and slanting her mouth fully against his. She pulled back, his bottom lip captured in a gentle tug between hers then pressed in, insistent, swaying forward, unbalanced in her eager pursuit.

His hands came up to circle her waist, steadying her and spreading his fingers out around her sides. “Betts,” he whispered, so softly it was hardly more than a gasp of air, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth and chin before nosing along her jaw, breathing her in.

Shivers quaked out from her middle. Her eyes closed, overcome by sensation, and her head fell back, allowing him access. He buried his face into her neck, mouthing along the skin, sliding his hands up her sides to swipe his thumbs across her ribs.

Her body buzzed, she wanted his hands to rise just a little further, to cup her breasts and ease the growing ache that was building under her skin. A quiet moan fell from her lips and she rasped out his name in a plea.

Jughead’s fingertips dug in almost painfully and he paused. It felt like if he pressed just a little more, squeezed just a little tighter, then maybe he would get close enough. Her mind cleared as the ache of his grip stilled the spiral of her thoughts and a small smile curved her lips.

He took a deep breath, breaking the silence, before all of the energy seemed to seep from him and his palms slid away.

Whimpering at the loss, her brows turned down and she arched her back in pursuit of his touch. The fabric of her dress felt coarse, hot and itchy. She wanted him to remove it entirely and press his hands onto her bare skin. Instead, he pulled back entirely, leaving her cold, and her eyelashes fluttered open in confusion.

His brow was furrowed as his eyes skimmed her face, an array of emotions flickering through their depths. “Betty,” he sighed, shaking his head, and she felt her stomach drop. Hurt must have shown on her face, because he started to explain, somewhat reluctantly. “It’s…”

“It’s not me, it’s you?” she guessed, eyes narrowed. It was like the previous moment had never happened, the way her mood soured so abruptly.

An unimpressed look crossed his face, and he responded with a simple, “Yes.”

Rolling her eyes, Betty scoffed.

He held a hand up in defense, vehemently affirming, “It is!” She didn’t appreciate how he was the one who sounded irritated with her, thank you. “There’s a fucking curse on me, Betty, in case you forgot. You don’t need that.”

“My mother drove me down here and won’t let me come home,” she bit back with her jaw clenched. “I’d say we’re both cursed.”

“Yeah, well, eventually enough time will pass that you’ll be able to leave here. You can take off and find a better life, okay? You wouldn’t be the first.”

Betty hesitated as she thought through his past, how long he must have been here by himself. The rumors were wide and varied about people being sacrificed to be eaten by the beast, but as far as she could tell, Jughead took in some wayward guests until they felt like they could leave to start anew.

“Fuck me,” he growled to himself quietly, tugging at his hair again. He pushed off from his seat in a dramatic flair to stand on the opposite side of his desk. “Just stick to reading.”

With a single rap of his knuckles on the wood, he stalked out of the room.

 

* * *

 

 

The days had slowed until every minute felt like it was passing through molasses. Jughead had fallen back to his regular habits, reticent about what had transpired that evening in the library. He hadn’t been cold or unkind in any way, but there had been a strained quality to his moods — a look in his eyes that left Betty with more questions than answers.

She felt suspended in a constant state of wanting, waiting, wondering when, or if, it would happen again. The few times they had touched since — the heat of his breath on her check when he leaned in to peer at a page, a graze of fingers as he passed her a cup of coffee, the brush of his leg as they settled on the couch — had felt like lightning in her blood, leaving her suspended, unable to breathe, as her entire body buzzed from a single point of contact.

If it were only lust that had built up inside her body, she didn’t think she would be in near the state she was. But it was far more than that. As they had grown closer she found that she craved his wit, insight, and companionship. She wanted to know him on every level — in the mind and the flesh. Simply put, she wanted Jughead. And as every small moment had built up into a torrent inside her, the anticipation grew, leaving her feeling sensitive and overstimulated. Her clothing and the soft cotton of her sheets felt far too rough, like dry, gritty sand.

Every time she closed her eyes, Betty was back in his arms, his lips on her skin.

Only in her mind, Jughead wouldn't put a stop to it. He'd tug her closer, into his lap, or possibly lay her out over the desk.

The fantasy had been advancing exponentially as of late, and she found herself with an inescapable desire growing as she tossed and turned in bed at night.

One such night, she landed on her back with a huff, staring up at the ceiling. She gave a few seconds of consideration before deciding _to hell with it_ and skimming a hand down her abdomen. When she reached the elastic band of her panties she let out a slow breath, stroking her fingers over the damp fabric.

The first touch sent a jolt through her body, her hips canting up for more, immediately trying to quell the ache left by his absence. She dipped her fingers into her underwear to slide along either side of her clit, quickly realizing that wouldn’t be enough.

Betty felt heated, her temperature climbing rapidly, and yanked her hand from the cotton to shove the scrap down her legs. Spreading her thighs wide, she shifted into a sitting position in an attempt to get a better angle.

With a whimper, she slipped her digits past her clit entirely and plunged them inside her pussy. She rocked against her hand, imagining how Jughead's would feel in their place, shuddering when she hit her g-spot. His hands were so much larger than hers and she longed for the stretch of his fingers, his cock.

She chewed her lip, the obscene sounds she was creating as she fucked herself sent a flush high on her cheeks. God, she couldn’t remember the last time she had been so wet, and all she wanted was to throw back the covers and run to Jughead’s room.

Following a quick, painful pinch to her inner thigh with her free hand, she removed her soaked fingers and delivered a slap to her clit. A light cry escaped her lips but she enjoyed the pain — wanted more of the pain — so she repeated the motion, more forcefully this time, but even that wasn’t enough.

She keened pathetically, desperate to find some relief. No matter what she tried, which position she found herself in, her efforts were in vain. Something was missing and she couldn’t find it at her own hand.

Her enthusiasm fading, Betty flopped back against the pillow with one thought: _Well, this won’t do._

Smoothing her sweaty and frizzled hair back from her forehead, she stared into the dark of her small room. Even without the light on, her eyes were drawn to the discarded book on her table — _The Beast Within_.

The corners of her lips turned up as determination settled on her face. Perhaps she was just going to have to do as she was told and put pen to paper, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So bossy,” he chided softly, a contrast to how he was now gripping her leg. “Entice me.” 
> 
> “I think you’re enticed plenty.” The words came out breathily, rather than with the coy confidence that she had intended, but, as always, he had foiled that plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Your eyes do not deceive you, we have, in fact, updated. We're so sorry for the delay, but life gets in the way as we're sure you all know. Hopefully this chapter makes up for the long wait.
> 
> As always, this is dedicated to [@bettysnooper](http://bettysnooper.tumblr.com). We adore you.

It could be argued that some of the best and most successful authors had determined their set writing environment — as it were, Betty lay on her bed, sprawled out on her stomach as she chewed the end of her pen thoughtfully. The incessant drive to accomplish her goals, hurtling forward with a stubborn refusal to surrender, was an impulse that she was all too familiar with. She had always been relentless in her pursuits, often scholarly, and they could only be appeased between the pages of books. However, this time, the book — though she would hardly call it that — was her own and she was finding the process of writing it incredibly frustrating. Each time she literally and figuratively put pen to paper, she second-guessed all the synonyms, word choices, and initial phrasing entirely. 

“How do you write sex anyway?” she mumbled, seeking answers on the messily lined pages that contained many more scratched out words than legible ones. She was far from experienced — despite her occasional efforts, every man in town had been found wanting — and her few unimpressive encounters didn’t exactly spark inspiration. 

Her kiss with Jughead held more passion than any brush with men she’d had in the past. Whenever the minutes that had passed between their lips came to mind, a flush of desire spread from her chest to her core.

Using the brief memory as fuel, Betty set out to inspire a feeling similar for him, and began to scribble furiously. 

* * *

A few excruciatingly stilted days had passed with Jughead speaking little more than a few, meager words to her outside of their usual readings, and she seriously reconsidered her plans of seduction. If they could even be called that when she didn’t know _how_ to seduce a person.  

Nevertheless, she didn’t let that deter her plans, nor when Jughead expressed disappointment that they wouldn’t be continuing the book she’d read from the day before. 

Groaning, he sunk back into his seat and threw an arm over his eyes, drawing her stare down to the raised hem of his shirt that had exposed the taut skin of his abdomen. “Betty, please. Why can’t you stick to reading one book at a time?” 

“Because _I_ am getting tired of reading Capote and I’m not the one who’s been here for who knows how long. You need some variety, and besides, I know you haven’t read this one.” 

“I highly doubt that. I’ve read every book in this library at least 3 times,” he scoffed. 

Betty raised her eyebrows, sending him a pointed look. “Who said it came from the library?” 

“How could it not? You haven’t left the castle.” His arm fell back to his side, revealing his skeptically furrowed brow, concern flashing in his eyes. “Did you get on my laptop?” 

“No!” Smoothing back her hair with one hand, Betty pulled her notebook from behind her back. “Jug, I told you I wouldn't. I _wouldn’t_.” She brushed her palm over the cover. “You believe that, don’t you?” 

When he saw the unadorned cover of the book, he sighed, deflating with a sharp nod. “Of course, I do. I’m just not used—” His voice tapered off and he cleared his throat. “I’ve never met anyone like you.” 

Sincerity filled his eyes when he met her gaze, and a blush heated her face before she cheekily replied, “Then let me read my mysterious book.” 

“All right,” he gave in, a small smirk and his demeanor perking up at how she had essentially circumvented his objections to a new story.  

Feeling much the same, Betty offered up a proud smile, trapping the tip of her tongue between her teeth. She caught herself watching him for a second too long, then gave a short nod, clearing her throat. 

_‘“I want you,” he murmured into the hollow of her jaw, “I've wanted you since the day I first saw you.”_

_She tugged at his hair, tangling her fingers into the thick locks to tilt his head back to her liking. He looked drunk on her, pupils so blown she could barely find a hint of color.’_

“Betty,” Jughead interrupted, voice low.  

Nervous of the reaction that might be awaiting her, she hesitated before looking up to meet his eyes. The pressure in her chest released, turning into a flutter of butterflies when she realized he wasn’t frustrated or alarmed, only surprised — perhaps pleasantly so.  

“Where did you…” His eyes narrowed, thinking, before realization flared with a pinch between his brows. “You wrote this for me?” 

Adrenaline coursed through her veins until words tumbled out on a breath, “I did.” She ran her fingertips along the spine of the pages, searching his face. “Do you like it?” 

“I— it’s—“ Color appeared on his cheeks as it drained from his knuckles, hands fisting on the arms of his chair. “I don’t know what to say.” 

The restraint he exerted over his body was as evident as the desire in his eyes. So often they were open, speculative, but too shuttered to reveal his innermost thoughts. Until this moment. When it came to Jughead’s feelings, Betty had been so sure and so scared, all at the same time; now she felt as if she was wavering on the precipice of something good, something great, that could be made of both their situations. If they’d only just take the chance and give it a shot.  

“Why did you—” Jughead began again, but she was far too gone to slow back down. 

“Because I want more from you,” she admitted, standing to take a step forward. “Well, more accurately, I want _you_ , Jughead. And I think you feel similarly, so a yes or no would do.” 

He cocked a brow at her newfound brazenness and Betty shivered imperceptibly at the way the small change took over his face. Or what she _thought_ was imperceptible, but his eyes tracking her form said otherwise.  

“Come here.” His tone left no room for argument but her feet stilled, frozen to the ground, until he beckoned her forward with two fingers. Warmth returned to her cheeks as she imagined what those fingers could do. 

She flexed her hands along the journal, raising her arm to set it on the couch.  

“Ah-ah, bring it with you.” His mouth tilted into a smirk that spread to his eyes. “You worked so hard, afterall.” 

Swinging her arms, she moved the book behind her back, grasping the spine with both hands. “I did.” She took slow steps forward, relishing in the touch of his eyes as they moved down her body. She stopped just short of his spread knees, the fabric of her simple dress brushing his leg. “Your _suggestion_ left me with thoughts.” 

A low rumble escaped his chest as he pushed back in his chair, sitting up. “You did so well.” He reached out with one hand, the tips of fingers sliding up the swell of her calf before rubbing light and languid circles behind her knee. 

Her heartbeat felt like thunder on a dark night, filling her ears and vibrating through her chest. He’d only begun to touch her, but it was just a taste and she already wanted more. “Both.” 

“Both? Both what, Betts? You had so many words before and now you’re making singular demands,” he teased. The rough warmth of his palm made a gradual ascent up the back of her thigh, gathering her skirt up around his wrist. 

Fixating on the sweep of hair across Jughead’s forehead, she relished in the intimate sensation of his hand on her bare skin. “I want both your hands on me.” 

“So bossy,” he chided softly, a contrast to how he was now gripping her leg. “Entice me.”  

“I think you’re enticed plenty.” The words came out breathily, rather than with the coy confidence that she had intended, but, as always, he had foiled that plan.  

His free hand came to rest on her hip over her dress, thumb stroking the fabric she wished would magically vanish. Betty hadn’t dared dream that she’d come this far, but now that she had, she’d take all he would give.  

“And perceptive.” Jughead tightened his hold and abruptly tugged her closer, pulling a gasp from her lungs and bringing her legs on either side of one of his. Even though his hands would have kept her from falling, her own flew out to catch herself on his shoulders, her notebook smacking his chest, and she felt him stiffen before he muttered, “Hands behind your back.” 

With a hushed apology, she did as instructed. A vice grip on her book kept her from reaching for him again. He paused as he waited to ensure she wouldn’t move, then skimmed his hand down her hip until he reached the end of her skirt. All the while, his piercing eyes never left her face as he made his way back up without the barrier in the way. 

Betty’s breath hitched in her throat when he swept his thumb over the same spot on her hip, before following the crease of her thigh to brush the front of her panties. 

“You really want this.” His thumb ghosted over the thin, damp fabric as he hooked his other hand fully around the back of her leg, digging his fingers into her inner thigh, drawing a sigh from her lips. A muscle in his jaw twitched and his nostrils flared. “You smell like…” he trailed off and leaned forward, pressing his face into her skirt as he breathed in deeply.  

A distraught noise squeaked from her throat. Suddenly self conscious, she began to squeeze her legs together. But his fingers curled down into the waistband of her panties as his thigh knocked her knees even farther apart than before.  

“Don’t,” he grit out, “don’t be embarrassed.”  His thumb pressed in against her clit, sending a wave of arousal through her. He breathed her in once more before a low growl rumbled from his chest. He dropped his head back, his face and shoulders tense. “Delicious.” 

The reaction left Betty curious. He hadn’t tasted her — _yet_ , ideally — but, at any rate, the desire was clear in his unfocused gaze. He licked his lips and she had to tighten her fingers on her notebook to prevent herself from reaching out for him, crashing her mouth to his.  

When he slipped his hand between her legs to cup her pussy, they both took a deep breath in tandem as their eyes met in a flash.  

Trusting him to keep her upright, Betty canted her hips closer for more, the tips of his fingers pressing between her folds through the soaked fabric of her panties. “Juggie, please.” 

“Oh, _now_ it’s ‘Juggie, please,’ instead of ordering me around.” The kind mirth that reappeared on his face gave her butterflies that could rival the heat currently working its way throughout her body. Betty adored when he was feeling playful, instead of his usual sullen and isolated self, but not right now.  

She had half a mind to kick him. 

“Please what?” Jughead dragged his fingers forward, ending with a firm circle around her clit, and she fumbled for any words that could capture how hungry she was for him. “Did you want me to stop?” 

“Jughead, don’t you dare,” she warned, following him forward with her hips. “I want you to make me come.” She looked into his eyes, meeting his challenging smirk directly before taking it a step further. “I want to see all that restraint you’ve built up fall apart in my hands, and then I _want_ you to fuck me.” 

The smug expression dropped as his eyes widened in surprise, like he’d never expected this to be a reciprocal situation. He froze, pupils dilating with the slow drags of his breath. The tips of his fingers dug deeper into her thigh, sure to leave imprints by morning, and the dull pain turned to pleasure, satisfying an itch she hadn’t been able to scratch. 

“You wouldn’t want to see me without restraint.” He stared resolutely at her middle, shallowly dipping his fingers against her, trapping the fabric between her folds. 

“Try me,” she challenged, darting her tongue out to her bottom lip. 

His hands moved quickly, grasping onto the simple lace band at the sides of her panties. The tear of the ripping fabric sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through her veins, raising her heartbeat. 

“Those were nice,” Betty protested weakly, far past the point of caring about anything that got in the way of his skin on hers. 

“And you came in here with this plan, wearing them for _me_. I think that gives me rights to ruin them.” He punctuated the remark by swiping a finger through her arousal, making her bite her lip hard enough that she tasted the copper tang of blood. His eyes narrowed in on her mouth and he added as an aside, “None of that. I want to hear the noises you’ve been driving me fucking crazy with every night for the past week.” 

“How could you possibly—” 

“Just because it’s a castle doesn’t mean we don’t have thin walls.” Jughead chose that moment to sink his finger inside her, and she thanked her lucky stars that she was right and his hands felt so much more satisfying than her own.  

Moaning quietly, she spread her legs further, digging her nails into her journal. She was ready to throw it across the room and twist her fingers into his hair. “You’ve been listening? How much did you hear?” 

He grazed his hand up the back of her leg to the crease at the top of her thigh, ghosting over the sensitive skin. “Enough.” 

“I was thinking about you.” Her chest began to tighten. The firm curl and thrust of his finger as he pressed his thumb against her throbbing clit was at a stark contrast to the gentle caress of his exploring palm. 

“I know.” He looked up, pressing a kiss to her cloth covered lower abdomen. “I heard my name.” 

Forgetting his instructions, she raised a hand and cupped his cheek, brushing over the freckles with her thumb. 

Jughead’s eyelashes dipped down, pausing before turning his head until her palm slipped away. He cleared his throat and pressed a second finger into her with a cheeky look. “Where is that surprising journal of yours? Read me more of your story.” 

Her eyes fluttered shut as she took a shuddering breath, rocking on her toes. “Jug,” she whined softly, focusing on all of the sensations he was drawing out of her body. 

“Yes?” Suddenly, he pulled his digits free to slap her clit, and a moan bubbled past her lips. “Read.” 

She nodded, swallowing thickly, and brought her journal out in front of her chest with a frown. It ruined her incredibly enticing view.  

_‘Her leg hitched up around his hip, nails scratching down the length of his neck and delighting in the way his chest rumbled.’_

Jughead dragged his wet fingers down to hook behind the back of her knee, pulling her forward until she bent her leg to rest it beside his. “Keep going.” 

‘ _“You have me.”_ ’ She glanced over the edge of her book, the words built into her brain. ‘ _“So take me.”_ ’ 

Hooking his arm up under her skirts, he tugged her down into his lap, bunching her dress around her waist in the process. He shoved the fabric aside and tilted her back, exposing her bare pussy to his rapacious gaze. His pupils were blown-wide, jaw clenched as he breathed deeply. “What’s taken can’t always be returned. Not as it once was.” 

Setting the book aside with a shaky grin, she finally let her hands sink fully into his hair. “No need to be so cryptic. The town only demanded a sacrifice, not a virgin.” 

Jughead barked a laugh at that, at least. “Not necessarily what I was getting at, but good to know.” He ran his fingers along her slit, Betty humming in response while she rocked her hips for more.  

Using the grip on the strands in her fists, she pulled herself closer for a quick kiss. It was just as dizzying as the first time, if not more so now that he was touching her so intimately. “Please,” she repeated against his lips. “Please, make me come.” 

“It would be my profound pleasure.” He grabbed the back of her neck and pressed two fingers into her pussy, flicking his thumb across her clit.  

Betty gasped, mouth dropping open. Nipping at her bottom lip, he tightened his hold. Her body thrumbed with pent up frustration from the last week, the nervous energy of the day, and the relief of pleasure that his touch had already provided. She moaned and rested her forehead against his, looking down to watch the mesmerizing sight of his long fingers as they disappeared inside her. Rocking her hips forward, she matched his thrusts. 

After a nudge of his nose to hers, he slid his lips along her cheekbone to her ear, nibbling at the soft skin beneath. “Do you like what you see?” 

The brush of his lips as they formed the words combined with the rough, low purr of his voice felt just as intimate as the press of his fingers. Her body began to tremble with the climax she’d been seeking since their lips had first touched — had craved for much longer. 

“I want an answer, beautiful.”  

Betty nodded furiously. “I do, I do.” She was transfixed by the ink of his tattoos shifting over his skin with every flex of his forearm. Tucking her face into the curve of his neck, her fingers found purchase on his biceps, digging deep into the muscle. She didn’t hesitate to beg, “Juggie, _more_.”

He kept her steady with an arm wrapped tight around her waist as he eased another finger into her, grinding his palm against her clit in time. She rode his hand with tiny jerks of her hips, screwing her eyes shut in concentration. 

When she felt Jughead’s cocky grin as he kissed the apple of her cheek, she retaliated by nipping at the tendon of his neck. 

His arm tightened to the point of pain, compressing her ribs, and Betty let out a moan she could only describe as _primal_. The twinge of discomfort was the thing she had been missing when she had tried and failed in her bed alone. Her long-sought orgasm crashed through her in a rush, flooding her veins with heat as coherent thought escaped her.  

With a harsh yank to his hair, she forced his head back, pressing her mouth to his in a frenzy. He seemed to match her desperation, pulling her impossibly tighter as she slipped her tongue past his lips. 

Betty fisted both her hands in his hair, clutching the thick strands with a white knuckled grip. She pulled at the roots, drawing a strangled gasp of a moan from his throat. Their mouths battled, a clash of teeth and lips and tongues. 

His fingers had stilled as her muscles contracted, but he continued a slow, steady roll of his thumb across her clit; a silent request for more. The pleasure that thrummed through her continued, coiling in her middle until her limbs began to twitch and tremble and her eyes rolled, head dropping back. 

When her quaking subsided, she grabbed his forearm with a desperate whine. He stopped, slowly pulling his fingers from her. The drag against her slick, sensitive flesh sent a shiver creeping through her deliciously wrung-out muscles. She watched his movements as he raised his hand to a mouth with a deliberate slowness, slipping his fingers between his lips, one by one, relishing the taste of her. 

Jughead’s pupils were blown out, wide and dark as the night. Gradually, he released her, each finger at her waist coming away as if the movement took him great effort. The muscles in his jaw twitched as he scanned her face. “Are you alright?” 

“That was…” A full shudder rushed down her spine and she flattened her palms down his chest. “Better than alright.” 

The tightening around his eyes relaxed as his lips twitched into a smile. “If I had known that all it takes to find you at a loss for words is an orgasm, I would’ve tried that weeks ago.” 

Betty’s jaw dropped and she lightly smacked at his chest. " _I_ tried weeks ago!” 

“Well, I have a severe lack of ripped corsets and honeyed flowers. And I know how much you enjoy those.” He playfully pinched the side of her thigh before resettling her skirts and glancing away. “I guess I didn’t want to put you in a situation you’d regret.”  

“My only regret will be if I don’t get to return the favor.” Her fingers dropped down to the waist of his pants, deftly pulling open the button, but Jughead’s hands shot up and grabbed her wrists, pinning them to her thighs.  

“I don’t know, Betts. I was really looking forward to finishing our book today, but you had to go and misbehave.” 

Seeing as she couldn’t break out of his hold — not that she particularly wanted to — Betty bunched her skirt in her fists and did everything she could not to pout. Her curiosity had been piqued, wetting her appetite for more. Of everything. “Punish me, then.” 

“I will.” The words were clipped, yet they sounded like a promise. One she desperately wanted to see him fulfill. 

Jughead stood, guiding her to her feet, and she felt her heartbeat ramping up all over again. In just a few seconds her mind was racing with thoughts of what he could do. Maybe shove her down to kneel on the ground, or bend her over his desk, or— 

“But I’ll need some time to gather supplies. Get some rest.”  

Her brow furrowed in confusion, but before she could voice any questions, Jughead dropped a sweet kiss to her temple with a murmured, “Patience,” before he twisted to deposit her in his seat and swiftly left the room. 

All things considered, and despite the object of her affection bringing their afternoon rendezvous to an abrupt end, Betty thought she’d consider her stint as an author a glowing success.  

Now, all she could do was wait, albeit with bated breath, and see what Jughead had up his sleeve. Their story was far from finished, but she fully intended to see, and enjoy, what sort of plans _he_ had in store. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank you to Kayla for providing Betty's writing sample! She provided much more than we ended up including because she is the smut queen. If you haven't already, you should check out her [Tumblr](https://lilibug--xx.tumblr.com) and [Ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilibug/pseuds/lilibug/).
> 
> And thank you once again to [pennyroads](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennyroads/pseuds/pennyroads/works) for another gorgeous [graphic](https://theheavycrown.tumblr.com/post/186120801831/a-modern-day-beauty-and-the-beast-retelling-so)!
> 
> Come find us on tumblr! [theheavycrown](https://theheavycrown.tumblr.com) and [kovicjones](http://kovicjones.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> Sending our appreciation to [pennyroads](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennyroads/pseuds/pennyroads/works) for the clutch writing assists and incredible [graphic](https://theheavycrown.tumblr.com/post/182863691931/a-modern-day-beauty-and-the-beast-retelling).
> 
> Let us know what you think in the comments?
> 
> Come find us on tumblr! | [theheavycrown](https://theheavycrown.tumblr.com) and [kovicjones](http://kovicjones.tumblr.com)


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